


Green

by Traeger



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3711400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traeger/pseuds/Traeger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A distillation and realisation of love throughout the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green

Someone once told you that you fall in love the way you fall asleep.

Slowly, and then all at once. You think it’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard.

You never know when you will meet the people who will mean the world to you. And you have a knack of finding them in unexpected places. Or maybe they find you. You don’t really know, but you don’t really care either. In the interrogation room at the police station. A temple on an island. In a training gym. In the stadium. On the arm of someone you really like. Things like that; you can’t make them up.

You remember your first reaction meeting her, and wonder what he sees in her. You’ve heard of girls like her. Rich, prissy, pampered. Only paying attention to him because he’s the most attractive thing around to add to her collection of beautiful things. The kind who gets everything they want on a silver platter. It’s so obvious, you almost feel insulted that he falls for that. It only annoys you further that she is actually rather nice and beautiful to boot, because you know you can’t compete with that, for him. You secretly wish that there was some other way to finance the thing you love doing without her coming to the rescue. It takes a bit of the fuel away. It’s hard to dislike someone in a guilt-free way when they literally pay for the uniform you’re wearing. You really don't want to go to her house. But you do, because you’re such a bad liar when it comes to excuses and you cannot kick the turtleduck who was your first real friend in this strange city. The mansion is everything you expect it to be. Down to the swimming pool and the servants at your beck and call. It is really too much, you think. You don’t look forward to the afternoon. Because it’ll only expose all your other inadequacies as a person. After all, you’re someone who thinks a fur wrap is the highest fashion statement to make.

But you don’t go shopping. She turns out to be an extremely cool person. A non-bender who manages to bend around impossible turns of a racetrack like a bender. Is there such a thing as a machine bender? You also realise you’re the most powerful bender incarnate, not a poet. It almost makes you feel guilty for kissing him. Almost, but not quite. You really like him, but he likes her, and you’re starting to see why.

You stare at her and her father. For one selfish second in your befuddled brain, you hope she says yes. Then the path to your true love would be free when all this is over. But she does not. She turns her back on her own blood in the most electrifying fashion (you remind yourself you really ought to just stick to bending, and leave the puns to others). Now you do feel really guilty. You try to make sure she has some comfort left, even if it absolutely breaks your heart to see him with her.

The days after that are strange. All the adrenaline and fear are channeled into roaming the nights with your friends. It’s new but it feels right. When you wake up from your nightmare of your prison box and escape, you see him and he holds your hand. It feels right as well. When you kiss him, you think this is love. Bright hot flames that meld your hearts and minds.

Yet it seems to cool in the perpetual winter of your homeland. Scary things are happening. He doesn’t understand you. You’re drifting apart from everyone. From him and him and her. Even your mentor and your father. No one understands. Your uncle does, but not for long. You feel angry at being duped. Just when you feel the world crashing down, like his workdesk you smashed, you lose your memory. It takes a while but you find your bearings once more. You see the way now. You lose so many connections that night. Of your past and your present. One by brute force, the other by reluctant willingness. The ache is hard to bear but so it goes.

Things are crazier now. You question yourself if you made the right decision. Sometimes you feel you cannot do anything right by anyone. She takes your mind of things by teaching you how to drive. You suck at it but it works. You even make up for the weirdness of your mutual ex-love.

She really knows how to travel in style. It’s even more impressive she knows how to manipulate it without bending. It’s a fun trip. You visit new places together, spending more and more time together. It’s nice. The synergy of fighting together is as enjoyable as the talks into the night. You can’t help but notice the way her eyebrows furrow in concentration when she’s looking at the playing board.

Strange things always happen to you. You’re sitting on the bed one moment and the next you’re in a bind, literally (what did you say about puns again?). You’re also treated to the most impressive display of wit and you vaguely wonder if you could have been that quick on your feet as well. One thing happens after the next and you wonder how someone could even be more brilliant than they already are. It’s kind of a daunting fact and you think that if she received airbending on top of everything else, you’d think the universe is being unfair. You don’t realise you’re staring until you’re knocked over by your polar bear dog.

Everything goes badly after this, to put it lightly. You rage on in silent despair. You feel useless. You hate being so weak. So pathetic. She sees you at your worst and you yell and scream at her. It’s not her fault but you can’t understand it right now. But there’s only kindness and warmth in her eyes in response. And now you feel even worse that you put those bags under those eyes. She learns your moods and responds accordingly without you once saying a word.

You leave to recuperate, partly because you want to run from the world and partly from her. Everyone has a breaking point. You don’t want her to reach hers when you’re the cause. Nothing is the same after. The days drag on and turn into meaningless weeks, months and eventually years. Everyone seems to have a life except you. Countless letters overflow your table. Your friends seem to be making a difference and you cannot take a step without collapsing. The letters are sometimes amusing but you’re never in a humourous mood anymore. You feel her letters are special, full of care and…and… love, perhaps? It never occurred to you before but as you lie there in the healing pool, you notice your thoughts drifting towards her more and more. Maybe it’s the enthusiastic way she writes about her engineering projects and the way you actually understand because she knows you well enough to show you her world using your perspective. Like when she explains about how suspension systems work by pointing out how your polar bear dog bend her knees when landing when leaping off ramps. You finally write a letter. It isn’t the first time but the depressing note it tends to leave compels you to throw all of them away. You miss her, you realise that. You tell your parents you miss your friends, and it’s true. But one face appears brighter than the rest.

You light up as you reach the familiar island. But your demons are not done with you yet. So you turn back. You cannot return a broken person to the world. A part of you wants her to see someone whole, not a pale reflection of the girl she once knew, but you don’t realise it at the moment. You wander the lands, a belated journey you were supposed to have when you were sixteen. The days are cruel and the nights are even more so, taunting you with the glow of eyes that should be yours. Weeks turn into months. It’s funny to think that the last two weeks with the crankiest woman alive would be good for your soul, if not your body.

You meet her for the first time again in three years. You release your breath you don’t realise you’re holding. And wonder why you never noticed her eyes before in that way. You think people have got it wrong all this time. Red isn’t the colour of warmth. Green is the colour of warmth. Green is the colour of happiness. She embraces you. It feels right. It’s been a long time since anything feels right for you. You upset her during lunch, and it crushes you. You mean well but well-intentioned people go on to be dictators as well. But it doesn’t get in the way with you two working so well together again, like a well-oiled machine. You feel like she’ll almost be impressed with that reference. Things escalate more quickly than you can imagine. You hear her scream for her father as she jettisons into the air. The anguish and pain in that one word cuts you deeper than any physical wound or poison. You worry about where she lands as you dive into the gaping hole of the mech. As you face the purple beam of doom, your last thought before you energybent is that you realise you haven’t apologise yet. When it’s all over, she squeezes your shoulder. She reminds you that you’re still here and she’s still here.

The wedding arrives and your friend gives a speech about love. About how it’s a faint and fickle thing. About the difficulty to find and the impossibility to tame. You sit there, but you’re not really looking at the couple in front of you. Impossible has never stopped you before, you think. You meet him again, the first time after the battle. You think about that bright flame that burnt once so bright. But instead of ashes you find a steady candle in the dark. You smile when you think about how much both of you grew up. You feel at peace as you stare across the bay. There is contentment as the man you think of as your second father smiles at you. You close your eyes, thinking about how everyone has your back, when not all that long ago, you only had a polar bear dog as a real friend. Then you hear her voice. The contentment gives way to something else. Something you think you felt before. But you only realise it the way you realise the rain is just a drizzle when a hurricane arrives. As you glance at her on the steps, you see her in all she is for the first time. Green is the colour of love.

Your hand reaches out and meet hers. You’re looking at her and she’s looking right back at you. Someone once told you that you fall in love the way you fall asleep.

Slowly, and then all at once. It's not the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard.

**Author's Note:**

> I stole all the nice lines about love and falling asleep and hurricane and drizzle from another Green.
> 
> Feel free to comment and leave feedback! :)


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